


Not Mine, Never Yours

by CapricornBookworm



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Angst with a Happy Ending, Banter, Blow Jobs, Bondage, Bottom Draco Malfoy, Cuddling & Snuggling, Dom/sub, Domestic, Endgame Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter, Face-Fucking, Falling In Love, Former Prostitute Draco Malfoy, Fucking, Hair-pulling, Hand Jobs, House Cleaning, Idiots in Love, Jealous Harry Potter, Jealousy, Kissing, Life After Hogwarts, Love Confessions, M/M, Masturbation, Matchmaker Charlie Weasley, Ministry of Magic (Harry Potter), Multi, Number Twelve Grimmauld Place, Oblivious Harry Potter, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Prostate Massage, Rimming, Rough Sex, Semi-Public Sex, Sharing, Teasing, Top Charlie Weasley, Top Harry Potter, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-23
Updated: 2019-01-23
Packaged: 2019-10-14 03:23:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 12,047
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17500625
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CapricornBookworm/pseuds/CapricornBookworm
Summary: Charlie licked his lips, shaking his head and letting out a chuckle, “When someone sucks a prick as good as that lad does…” He let out a low whistle, glancing back towards the bedroom as though fully considering going back inside, “...It just seems like a crime to stop him.”Rolling his eyes, Harry brushed past Charlie, “Yeah, well, maybe I'll just have to have him tonight as well, to make up for my lost time.”





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Alternate description: The one where Draco used to be a prostitute, Charlie is an insatiable matchmaker, Harry is in love, and everyone is oblivious.

****

“I’m done with him,” Charlie commented as he stepped out of the bedroom, a threadbare towel wrapped loosely around his waist, rubbing a hand over the curled hair on his chest as he turned to walk down the hallway. His hair was still wet from his morning shower, and his prick was still going soft after his morning fuck.

Harry was leaning against the wall opposite the bedroom door, arms crossed over his chest and looking very put out, though his cheeks were gently flushed. “Sure took your time this morning, didn't you? I have a meeting at 9, and I can't afford to be late.” 

Charlie licked his lips, shaking his head and letting out a chuckle, “When someone sucks a prick as good as that lad does…” He let out a low whistle, glancing back towards the bedroom as though fully considering going back inside, “...It just seems like a crime to stop him.” 

Rolling his eyes, Harry brushed past Charlie, “Yeah, well, maybe I'll just have to have him tonight as well, to make up for my lost time.” 

“Fine fine,” Charlie called as he headed over to the staircase, “Although, he might be a bit sore by tonight. I have _big_ plans for today.”

“Merlin, you're insatiable,” Harry muttered, closing the bedroom door behind him as Charlie's footsteps faded.

When Harry turned around, he was greeted by an image that made every hair on his arms stand up, a flush spreading through his body. Every inch of him filled with an electric kind of warmth. He never got tired of this.

Draco Malfoy was stark naked and laid out in the middle of the bed, cheek pressed into the mattress, his spine arching beautifully so that his arse was on display. Though he was facing the door, his eyes were closed. Draco looked blissful.

Harry walked forward, running his fingers over the thin sheen of sweat covering Draco’s forehead. He spoke in a soft voice, crouching down next to the bed so he was eye-level with Draco, “Are you up for another round? You look pretty sleepy. We can wait till later if you'd like.”

“No, I'm just relaxing.” He wiggled his arse, a small smile on his delicate lips. “Fuck me, Harry.”

“Yeah?” 

Draco cracked open his eyes, looking at Harry with exasperation, “Well if you don't, I will. I have a pretty extensive collection of dildos.” Draco seemed to hesitate for a moment before continuing. “And there's always Charlie. He’s insatiable, as you rightly stated. He’ll fuck me anytime I ask.”

Something painful clenched in Harry's gut, his jaw tightening and gaze hardening at Draco’s words.

He needed no further motivation. Harry stood up, considering how he wanted to fuck Draco.

Harry unbuckled the belt of his trousers, pulling it out from the loops in one swift motion. The click of metal as it fell to the ground seemed to be all Draco needed; he knew that he was about to get fucked. He shifted his knees wider on the bed, his arse spreading in a way that was obscenely hot.

When Harry walked around to the foot of the bed, pulling his rapidly hardening prick out of his trousers, he noticed that Draco’s hole was gently pulsing. Harry swallowed roughly. 

God, there was just something about Draco that never failed to rip Harry to shreds, to turn him inside out until he felt completely vulnerable as though he was the one naked and waiting on the bed. 

“On your back.”

Draco turned over instantly, lying flat on his back so that his sleek blonde hair fanned out behind him, surrounding him in a light halo. Harry stroked his prick as he let his eyes trail freely over Draco’s body, from the dip of his long neck to the rosy pink of his nipples, all the way down to his lengthy cock and slim ankles. Harry wanted nothing more than to spend hours exploring every inch of him, but his time was limited this morning. 

Harry got onto the bed, kneeling at Draco’s feet. He couldn’t help but skim his fingers over the arch of Draco’s foot, following it past the heel and over the toned muscles of his calves. “Scoot forward, knees to your chest.” 

As Draco got into position, Harry leaned over and reached behind him, grabbing a pillow and tapping lightly on Draco’s hip. Draco understood without needing words, lifting his hips so that Harry could place a pillow beneath him, his arse now served to Harry on a silver platter. His body was Harry’s to use. 

Trailing a finger down past Draco’s balls, Harry touched the furl of his arsehole, dipping his finger inside. He found it lightly slick, though Harry knew from the texture that it was not lubricant. It was Charlie’s come. 

Harry pulled his finger out a little roughly, feeling a fire rising up inside him. He almost felt torn in half. Part of him wanted to plunge his cock into Draco’s arse and fuck him without mercy, filling his arse up with Harry’s own come. Meanwhile, the other part of him wanted just the opposite. He thought about taking the day off from work, bringing Draco into his bathroom and taking his time cleaning Draco inside and out, erasing all traces of Charlie from his body.

He felt something brush against his hand, and shook himself, refocusing on the current moment. Draco’s fingers were wrapped around his wrist, a question looming in his gaze, although he didn't ask. But Harry sensed that Draco knew. 

He always knew.

Harry muttered a lubrication spell, covering his cock with the cool slick and then rubbing the remainder between his fingers, warming it up before pushing a finger back inside Draco. As Harry worked his fingers inside, he reveled in the breathy sighs and gasps spilling out of Draco’s lips. 

After a moment, Harry pulled his fingers out and curled a hand under one of Draco’s knees, guiding his leg up onto Harry’s shoulder, his body so pliant and willing, bending to Harry’s every touch. 

Not a second later, Harry was pushing his cock inside, watching as Draco’s body opened around him, adjusting for the girth of Harry’s cock. When Harry was finally all the way inside, hips pressed against arse, Draco let out a pleased moan and his hole clenched around Harry. 

Harry’s heartbeat stuttered in his chest.

He rubbed over the soft hair on Draco’s thigh with one hand while he steadied himself on Draco’s chest with the other. Harry began thrusting in deeply, listening carefully to Draco’s breathing, angling his hips _just so_ …

“Fuck, Harry.” Draco let out a moan, biting his lip as Harry hit his prostate. 

Harry continued to thrust his hips, hitting that same spot each time. 

With each thrust, a flush spread slowly, methodically from Draco’s sharp cheekbones and down his lean neck, all of his pale skin becoming tinged with a pearlescent pink, his body shining with sweat. 

Draco’s eyes shut and his face scrunched up in an expression that nearly looked pained, his hands grasping at the bedsheets strewn around them. Something dawned on Harry.

“Draco… Draco, did he let you come yet today?”

A whimper rumbled up from Draco’s chest, the flush deepening on his face, even the tips of his ears turning pink. He shook his head from side to side against the bed, back arching and cock twitching when Harry slowed his thrust, pushing in deep and staying there.

“Is that a no, Draco?” Harry reached forward and ran shaky fingers through the hair framing Draco’s face, “Use your words.”

“No, no, no, no,” Draco gasped out, his voice rough and quiet, though the words were like a _Reducto_ going off in Harry’s ears.

“What about last night?”

“Not last night either.”

Every muscle in Harry’s body clenched, his heart racing uncomfortably. He had the sudden primal urge to go hex Charlie, magic sparking at his fingertips. 

Draco let out a hiss, Harry’s magic skittering across his abdomen. “It’s… It’s okay though. I like being denied. I just - _shit_ \- I obviously would like to come at some point.”

Harry let his eyes run over Draco for a moment, taking in the feverish sweat covering his skin and the moisture gathering in the corners of his eyes. He almost looked broken. Broken and yet so stunning that it caused Harry physical pain as he pulled his cock out of Draco’s arse.

“Wait, don’t -” Draco began, eyes wide and glistening as Harry’s slick cock flopped down against Draco’s balls, a dribble of precome clinging to the tip. 

“Shhh, I’m not done yet. Be patient.”

Harry glanced at the time on his Muggle watch, grimacing as he realized that he only had a few minutes before he needed to leave. 

“You can go, you know? I can finish myself off…or something.” Draco commented, looking between Harry’s watch and his face.

Harry leaned down over Draco’s body, removing the pillow from beneath his hips and then curling an arm around around his back, shifting his body up towards the head of the mattress. When Draco was in the position Harry wanted, he leaned down, lips brushing Draco’s ear as he whispered, “ _Not a chance._ ”

As Harry fully unbuttoned his dress shirt, discarding it onto the floor without a care in the world, he knew in the back of his mind that he was going to be in deep shit with Kringwold when he showed up to work 30 minutes - or possibly an hour - late. 

Somehow as he looked down at Draco, admiring the desperation on his face and the cruel jut of his hard cock, Harry simply couldn’t be bothered to worry about Kringwold. 

Once Harry was fully naked, he settled back in front of Draco, silently casting a wandless lubrication charm and slicking up his fingers just as he had earlier. 

“Fucking show-off,” Draco muttered, though when Harry glanced up he found a smirk on Draco’s face. 

“Don’t sass me or I might just change my mind and head to work.”

This only silenced Draco for a moment, and then Harry was pressing his fingers back inside him, Draco letting out a grateful sigh at the intrusion. 

“Merlin, you really like to be filled, don’t you?”

Draco merely nodded, hands trailing leisurely down his own chest, clearly on a path towards his cock.

“Hands off.” 

When Harry received a glare in reply, he continued, “I want you to enjoy this. Focus only on this. Focus on how my fingers feel inside you, yeah?”

Harry pressed his two fingers in further, feeling the delicious resistance of Draco’s arse around him. There was no part of Draco that was free of that attitude, that enticing rebellion. Even when Draco was begging for cock, begging to be fucked into the mattress, something about him still made it feel forbidden.

When Harry noticed that Draco’s hands were twitching restlessly at his sides, he made a decision. He glanced at the headboard, noticing the wide vertical slats in the wood. Harry cast _Accio_ , catching the slate grey tie he had discarded when he first entered the room with his free hand, “Put your hands up near the headboard for me - Cross your wrists over - Yeah, just like that.”

He paused for a moment and glanced down at Draco, fingers still buried in his arse, “Is this okay?”

One of Draco’s thin eyebrows lifted, his expression somewhere between surprised and fond. “Are you really asking me if I’m okay with light bondage? You do know that Charlie once left me hanging upside-down in the kitchen with a vibrator in my arse, right?”

Harry swallowed around a lump his throat, feeling as though someone had just doused him in ice water, the shock hitting his system painfully before it faded, “I’m well aware of that. But I’m not asking what you’ve done before… Right here, right now, are you okay with this?” 

Draco looked taken-aback for an instant, but then his expression hardened. A mask took over his face, “Yeah. It’s okay.”

Nodding his understanding, Harry removed his fingers as gently as possible, shushing Draco’s whine of protest. He then grabbed for his wand and cast a spell that weaved his tie into an intricate pattern around Draco’s wrists, binding them together and then fastening them to the headboard. 

When Harry glanced at Draco, there was a strange expression on his face. “Does that feel alright, if it’s too tight I can -” Harry began, lifting the wand once more.

Draco’s gaze followed Harry’s arm closely. “You’re using my wand.”

“What?” Harry glanced down, and saw that he was indeed using Draco’s wand. He ran a thumb over the smooth Hawthorn, feeling the warmth of it beneath his fingertips. “Sorry, I didn’t even notice.”

Harry placed it back on the bed, but Draco’s expression faltered, a fleeting look of horror followed by one of hope. He was going to ask, but Draco’s naked body, his tied wrists… it was too much for Harry to resist. 

“Fuck, you look amazing like that.”

Draco let out a hum, “Well, if I look so fantastic, why don’t you get back to fucking my arse?”

Harry pinched one of Draco’s nipples, rubbing the hardened nub between his fingers. “Cheeky bastard.”

The next several minutes Harry took his time pushing his fingers inside Draco’s arse, pressing and spreading, moving them in and out in time to Draco’s sighs and moans. 

As Draco’s arse relaxed, allowing Harry’s fingers to sink in deeper, Harry began to change the angle of his fingers. Curling and twisting them inside Draco, feeling around inside until Draco let out a telling hiss, dropping his head back heavily onto the pillow behind him. 

Harry rubbed over Draco’s prostate, alternating his pressure and rhythm, sometimes pulling his fingers away entirely. He basked in Draco’s groans of frustration, the choked breaths and desperate sighs. Every sound was like a heated kiss against Harry’s body. 

Draco’s abdomen was clenching, his body vibrating with each purposeful stroke of Harry’s fingers. Each movement tested the bonds around Draco’s wrists and the boundaries of Harry’s willpower, his body fighting against the instinct to ram his cock into Draco’s arse. 

After teasing Draco for a while, Harry decided to take pity on him. He curled his fingers in just the right spot, finding Draco’s prostate and rubbing over it continuously, the pressure unrelenting. Draco was thrashing against the restraints around his wrists in response, arching off the sheets and turning his head restlessly against the pillow, his chest moving visibly in time with his labored breathing.

“Do you want to come, Draco?”

“Yes - _Fuck_ \- God, yes.”

Harry smiled, not stopping his assault on Draco’s prostate. He was determined to keep going until Draco came. 

“My cock… please,” Draco gasped out. Harry watched as Draco’s cock twitched at his words, the tip flushed darkly, the whole length of it stretching towards Harry as though begging for release.

“What about your cock, Draco?” Harry asked with feigned innocence. 

“Touch it! Lick it - bloody fuck - _anything_.”

Harry merely hummed. He pressed his fingers deeper inside Draco, drawing patterns on Draco’s prostate and ignoring all of Draco’s beautifully pitiful whines. “I have no intention of touching your cock, Draco. I want you to come just from this... just from my fingers.”

Draco’s eyes were pressed shut, as he grit out a reply, “You are the _devil_ \- shit shitttt - Spawn of Satan, you are.”

“On the contrary, Draco, most people call me the Saviour, or the Chosen One.” Harry replied, chuckling as he gave a particularly hard press inside Draco’s arse, and Draco let out a squeal.

“Clearly those people weren’t having sex with y - _Ahhh_!” 

Harry could tell Draco was getting close. With every touch he was tearing Draco further apart, pulling at each loose thread until Draco was about to unravel in front of him.

“I want you to come for me, can you do that?” 

Draco’s breath shook and he opened his mouth as if about to reply, before he simply nodded instead.

“Good. I want you to let yourself go. When you feel yourself about to come, just let it happen. Don’t hold back.” 

Harry continued his movements inside Draco, coaxing him into orgasm. When it finally happened, Harry felt as if time had slowed, each sound amplified and each bright spot of flush on Draco’s body seeming brighter than usual. Harry became hyper-aware of everything around him, each of his senses becoming overcome with the sights, scents, and sounds of Draco’s orgasm. He watched the come spill from Draco’s cock, captivated as it twitched from the aftershocks, Draco’s whole body still thrumming with the electricity of it all. 

Watching Draco Malfoy come was nothing short of exhilarating, and Harry’s own cock was responding in earnest, throbbing heavily between his legs, balls drawn up tight. 

Before Harry released Draco from his bonds, he decided to get a release of his own. Harry pulled his fingers from Draco’s arse, stroking his cock while he pet over Draco’s body. He skimmed fingers over Draco’s hip bones, the smooth skin of his inner thigh, and the soft curve of his waist. Draco was watching him closely, following his every movement. His grey eyes were dark and stormy.

It took hardly more than a minute before Harry was coming, letting his come mix with Draco’s as it fell, barely resisting the urge to spread their come around with the tip of his cock. 

When Harry looked up, there was something different about Draco’s expression. Something Harry couldn’t quite place. It almost looked… pleased? Thankful? Harry pushed those thoughts out of his mind, reaching for his own wand and removing Draco from the tie that was binding him. He couldn’t help but feel a rush of pride when he saw the marks on Draco’s wrists. A physical reminder of what they had done this morning.

They cleaned up in silence, Harry grabbing a warm towel from the closet to wipe down Draco’s stomach and taking care to move gently over his softened cock. As Harry got redressed he thought about the day ahead of him, dreading work after such a wonderful morning. He had half a mind to call in sick altogether, but he knew it was a risky move considering that his caseload at the Ministry was so high these days.

Harry reluctantly laced up his shoes, grabbing his wand and turning to leave the room.

A quiet voice called after Harry. It was so quiet that he barely heard it, “Thank you.”

Harry turned back toward the bed. His heart jolted at Draco’s words and his whole body tensed, though he wasn’t quite sure why.

Harry couldn’t think of a response that didn’t make him sound like a numpty, so he settled for nodding in reply. Then he walked out of the room and down to the Floo, heading off to work without even saying goodbye to Charlie.

****


	2. Chapter 2

****

It was nearing midnight when Harry returned home. Kringwold was less than pleased that Harry had shown up an hour late, and thought it would be sufficient punishment to have him stay for five extra hours.

As Harry unlocked the front door of Grimmauld Place, setting down his briefcase and unwrapping a scarf from around his neck, he came face-to-face with a scene that made him feel as though the floor had dropped out from beneath him.

Draco was bent over the arm of the couch, getting fucked roughly from behind by Charlie. 

Harry froze, halfway through extracting his arm from his coat. Draco’s chest and neck was covered in light bruises and bitemarks, his white-blonde hair plastered to his forehead as his body gleamed with sweat, the light from the fireplace flickering over his slickened skin. Charlie’s fingers were pressed harshly into Draco’s hips as he thrust with violent force, each slap of hips against arse echoing endlessly in Harry’s mind. 

Charlie glanced up at Harry with a smirk on his face, slamming _hard_ into Draco and smiling when he keened in reply. Then Charlie shifted, wrapping his arm around Draco’s waist and pulling him up against his chest, thrusting with increasing speed and pressing Draco back against him, not allowing him to escape. 

Harry couldn’t take his eyes off the scene, watching with horror while his stomach tied itself in knots. He had the sudden and violent urge to throw up, though his cock was on a different page entirely, growing hard and heavy in his trousers.

When Charlie looked up again, his eyes flickered from Harry’s face to the bulge in his trousers and then back again. He leaned impossibly closer to Draco, lips brushing against the shell of Draco’s ear and whispering to him, eyes still locked on Harry. Draco whined in response, turning his head in towards Charlie’s neck, eyes shut tight. His cock bounced with every movement of Charlie’s hips. Harry wanted desperately to know what Charlie was saying.

Not a moment later Charlie moved his hand up, trailing over Draco’s ribs and neck until it cupped under Draco’s chin, turning his face forcefully back towards the front door...back towards Harry. 

Then Charlie spoke, his voice low but firm, carrying just enough that Harry heard him, “Open your eyes.”

Draco’s eyes shot open just as Charlie slammed inside him. Draco’s gaze locked onto Harry’s, his face twisted with emotion while a scream tore out of his mouth, the sound equally filled with pain and ecstasy.

Something about that moment broke Harry out of his stupor. He hadn’t realized he was holding his breath until he let out a harsh exhale, his hands shaking as he fumbled with his briefcase, exiting the front room as quickly as possible and walking through the first open door he found. Harry’s vision was blurred, his eyes watering though he had no idea why. A buzzing sound had taken over his mind, every thought dampened by the constant, aching hum. 

It took him a moment before he even recognized that he had walked into the library. His legs shook as he dropped himself into an armchair. Harry’s head spun as he looked around. In the distance he could hear Charlie’s voice and his stomach jumped into his throat. The urge to vomit overwhelmed him. Harry intended to head to the loo, but he barely made it a few steps before he was throwing up into a potted plant, clutching the rim like a lifeline. His chest heaved as he retched, his lungs burning. 

Tears skimmed down his cheeks, anger spilling out of him along the with the contents of his stomach. Eventually, Harry made his way back to his bedroom, changing into fresh clothes and cleaning himself up.

It was hours later when he was lying in bed that he realized he had vomited on Charlie’s prized azalea plant. 

****


	3. Chapter 3

****

The next morning Harry dragged himself down to the kitchen, hoping for a cup of hot tea to soothe his sore throat and aching body. His eyes burned from the prior night’s tears, the morning light blinding him when he entered the kitchen. Harry spotted the kettle sitting on the stove, but when he picked it up, he caught whiff of a foul smell. When Harry opened the top he saw that it was filled with old coffee grounds.

Harry immediately knew it was Charlie that had left the mess. 

Draco and himself only drank tea. 

He grit his teeth in anger and began banging around the kitchen, slamming the kettle back on the counter and looking in the cabinets for a sponge. Harry found that magic rarely did the trick when it came to cleaning dishes, and he certainly didn’t want any of Charlie’s burnt coffee ruining his tea. 

After managing to get it cleaned, Harry finally put the kettle on for his tea. While the water was coming to a boil, he reached for the packet of crumpets sitting on the counter and took one out, intending to have it with butter and jam. However, when he got a plate down from a shelf it slipped from his grip. Harry’s quick reflexes from his days as a Seeker helped him stop it from falling to the floor, but the edge of the plate still chipped on the corner of the counter. 

Harry let out a muttered curse, kneeling down to pick up the chipped piece of plate off the floor, and cutting his finger when it turned out to be sharper than expected. 

_Fucking hell_ , this day was complete and utter shit. Harry closed his eyes for a moment, trying not to let the anger and frustration take him over. Several deep breaths later, he turned to wash his finger in the sink, his blood dripping into the basin and turning the water a violent shade of red.

Soft footsteps were padding down the hallway and Harry turned, hoping to Merlin that it wasn’t Charlie. 

When Draco rounded the corner, his blonde hair bed-mussed and his sleeping trousers rumpled, Harry let out a sigh of relief. 

“Morning,” Draco said with a yawn, his eyes blinking blearily at Harry. Then he glanced at the sink, “Shit, what happened?”

“S’nothing,” Harry replied, feeling his cheeks flush as he realized how pathetic he looked. 

Draco stepped in close to Harry and pulled out his wand. “Only _you_ would say ‘it's nothing’ when you have blood pouring out of your finger.” 

“I'm fine. Honestly, I was just going to put a bandage on it. The bleeding will go down in a few minutes.”

“Harry, I swear that sometimes you forget that you're a wizard…” Draco shook his head with a light chuckle. “Will you at least let me heal it?”

“I'm fully capable of using magic. I just don't feel the need to whip out my wand for every little bump or bruise,” Harry replied defensively. 

“Yes, yes. A man of many talents. Can I heal it or not?”

Draco was now standing so close that Harry could count every one of his eyelashes, could see every speck of silver in his grey eyes. Draco simply tilted his head in question as Harry let his eyes run over Draco’s face. Finally, Harry nodded.

Wrapping a hand firmly around his wrist, Draco touched the tip of his wand just above the cut on Harry's finger, muttering a spell beneath his breath. Harry felt a warmth spread through his hand emanating from the wand tip and moving throughout all of his fingers. Then he felt a soft pressure, so light it was almost like the brush of lips against the cut. Harry watched as the cut healed, leaving nothing but a thin white scar in its place. 

“There,” Draco said, though his fingers remained wrapped around Harry's wrist.

Harry looked up from their hands, meeting Draco's gaze and feeling a swooping sensation in his chest.

Something stirred in the air between them, each of them reticent to speak, the silence stretching on in a way that made Harry’s heart clench uncomfortably, though he still had no clue why. 

The moment was broken when heavy footsteps descended the staircase, Charlie clearly headed toward the kitchen. 

Harry looked from Draco to the doorway and then back again before deciding to exit the room. As he left, he glanced over at Draco and nodded in thanks.

When Harry passed Charlie in the hallway, he stopped him with a hand on Charlie's arm, “Just so you know, when you make coffee, you need to actually clean it out afterwards. The kettle doesn't magically clean itself.”

Charlie looked taken-aback and more than a little shocked, but Harry couldn't bring himself to care.

****

A soft tap on the door stirred Harry as his mind and body were drifting restlessly in and out of sleep. Harry turned to glance toward the door, blinking at the bright tip of a wand and catching a glimpse of silver blonde hair as Draco stepped into the room.

“Mind if I join you?”

Harry’s mind took a moment to catch up with the request, his brain still foggy with sleep. “Yeah. Yeah, that’s fine.”

Draco walked toward the bed, and now that he was closer, Harry could see that Draco was without a shirt, clad only in a pair of tight black briefs, his feet bare against the hardwood floors. 

“You must be freezing. C’mere,” Harry shifted on the bed, lifting the bed covers and allowing Draco to climb underneath. 

As Draco crowded under the covers, one of Draco’s feet brushed against Harry’s calf, the chill of his skin sending gooseflesh up Harry’s leg. Draco’s body emenanted an icy kind of warmth, one that had Harry barely suppressing a shiver. 

“You can scoot a bit closer… if you’d like,” Harry suggested, trying - and failing - to sound nonchalant. His body ached to touch Draco.

Draco moved closer, turning on his side toward Harry and placing a hand on Harry’s chest, running his fingers through the smattering of dark hair. The gentle touches drew a sigh out of Harry, his heart lightening and his thoughts becoming less frantic with every brush of Draco’s fingers. He was easing into the mattress, eyes drooping.

Soon Draco’s fingers began to skim slowly down Harry’s chest and abdomen, following the trail of dark hair to where it disappeared below Harry’s boxers. Though his cock was more than pleased with the prospect of Draco’s touch, something inside Harry hesitated. 

_Does Draco think he has to do this?_

_Does he even want Harry?_

Just as Draco was dipping his fingertips below Harry’s waistband, Harry spoke up, hating himself for saying anything at all, “Wait.”

Something vulnerable shone in Draco’s eyes as he met Harry’s gaze, the movement of his hands ceasing. “Did I do something wrong?”

 _Fuck_ , Harry was such an idiot for making him stop. Draco looked so broken all of the sudden. He almost looked scared too, as if he was about to get punished.

“No, no. Not at all. I just - It’s probably pathetic, but - I would like to just hold you… If that’s alright?”

Something softened in Draco’s eyes, even the sharp jut of his jawline seeming to blur at the edges, his body relaxing at Harry’s request. 

Draco removed his hand from Harry’s boxers, wordlessly shifting until his body was pressed up against Harry’s, the top of his head nestled beneath Harry’s chin. 

Harry let out an unsteady exhale, wrapping his arms around Draco’s slim shoulders and the soft skin of his waist.

They lay there in silence for a while, Harry drinking in Draco’s even breaths, groans, and the mumbled words escaping from his lips as his body fell into a deep sleep.

Harry didn’t know what made him do it, but he found himself taking long inhales, his senses filling with Draco’s scent as though trying to memorize it. Draco smelled of the sharp sourness of a freshly picked apple, the sweet spice of cinnamon and cloves, a rich musk that caused Harry’s eyes to flutter shut, and the unmistakable scent of sex. 

It was hours later that Harry woke up, a beam of light stealing in through a gap in the curtains while his body roused him with the need to piss. When Harry attempted to move, he felt an unyielding pressure keeping him in place.

He was on his back with Draco’s body half on top of his own, a hand pressed over Harry’s heart, his cheek smushed into Harry’s chest, and one of his long legs thrown over Harry’s own. It was only with extreme difficulty that Harry managed to extract himself from Draco, walking to the loo with a sea of thoughts crashing and colliding in his mind. 

It took a moment before Harry’s eyes adjusted to the light of the bathroom, his vision blurred without his glasses, the aim of his soft prick much less than spot on. 

As Harry pulled his boxers back up, he let out a sigh, the air coming out in a gust, his chest sinking and belly flattening with the force of it. Then he flushed the toilet and washed up in the sink, sliding the cool metal frames of his glasses onto his face and taking in his haggard appearance in the mirror. He ran a hand over the scuff on his chin and jawline, the rough texture burning the tips of his fingers. He didn’t even bother to fix his bedhead. 

When he returned to his room, he paused for a moment, noticing the bags lingering beneath Draco’s eyes like a heavy shadow. Draco was breathing steadily, and Harry could see the soft rise and fall of his shoulder blades with every breath. He clearly needed to rest.

Harry glanced at the clock on his wall, cursing quietly when he realized that he had work in just under two hours. He walked over to the side of the bed, simply letting himself look at Draco for a moment. He watched as Draco let out a small shiver, gooseflesh dotting his skin, his body curling further in on itself in an effort to keep warm. Harry gently reached out, taking care not to wake Draco as he pulled the covers more fully around his body. Then Harry grabbed for his wand, igniting a spark in the fireplace that sat in the corner of his room, kindling the flame with his wand until the room began to heat, a warmth expanding and diffusing throughout the room like an intimate caress. 

With reluctance, Harry left the room, heading off to get ready for work and leaving Draco fast asleep in his bed.

****


	4. Chapter 4

****

It was Saturday morning and Harry was up early, heading out for a run. He had worked another extended shift the prior day and was at Hermione and Ron’s until late that evening, talking for hours and drinking far too much Firewhiskey. Harry woke up feeling like a pile of rubbish and needed something to jolt himself out of it, he needed to lose himself in a long winding run.

When Harry returned to Grimmauld Place, he was dripping with sweat, his clothes forming a second skin against his body. As he kicked off his trainers and headed to the kitchen for a drink, he heard the rustle of parchment. He expected to find Charlie reading the _Prophet_ with his morning coffee. 

What Harry did not expect was Draco on his knees between Charlie’s legs, bobbing obscenely on his cock while one of Charlie’s hands was twisted into the strands of Draco’s hair, pushing Draco lower down. 

Harry stopped in the entryway of the kitchen, fire rising in his throat at the scene before him. In Charlie’s free hand he was holding a crumpet slathered with jam, a copy of the _Daily Prophet_ hovering in the air just above Draco’s head. Harry’s fists clenched in anger as he saw several crumbs fall from Charlie’s mouth, landing on Draco. 

Charlie let out a guttural groan, his grip tightening in Draco’s hair, “Uhhh, that’s it, lad… Just like that.”

The only thing keeping Harry from casting a hex or turning right back around was the cotton sensation in his mouth, his lips exceptionally dry from the brisk morning air. Harry walked into the kitchen and strode past Charlie as if he hadn’t seen him, reaching for a glass and filling it with water. He drank slowly, the liquid sliding down his throat and attempting to fill in the cracks. Somehow it still burned as it went down.

Harry then turned slowly, catching a glimpse of Draco’s face, his eyes shut tight and his lips stretched wide around Charlie’s thick cock. Above him, Charlie popped the last of his crumpet into his mouth, licking his lips when he glanced over at Harry. “Mornin.’ Good run?”

Harry grit his teeth and tried to keep his voice steady as he replied, “Great, actually.”

“But not _nearly_ as good as this, yeah?” Charlie inquired, running his fingers over Draco’s hollowed cheeks and smirking over at Harry. 

Anger burst in Harry’s chest, a fire so strong it was painful. It took everything he had not to throw the glass in his hand. 

Harry took a breath, placing his glass on the counter as he silently summoned the _Prophet_ , the parchment flying effortlessly into his hand. Charlie looked up in surprise.

“Don’t mind if I take this, do you?” Harry asked, a hint of malice coloring his voice as he walked around the kitchen to stand in front of Charlie. “And clean him up when you're done. You eat like a slob.”

****

Half an hour later, Harry heard the rush of water coming from the room next to him and knew that Draco was in the shower. A sly smile crossed his lips as he turned a page in his book. Harry adjusted his glasses on his nose and attempted to continue reading, though his mind was now whirring with thoughts.

A knock on his door distracted him from the blurred images flashing in and out of his mind. “Come in,” Harry called.

Charlie stepped into the room. There was something in his gaze that Harry couldn’t quite place.

“Well, what is it?” Harry questioned, barely concealing his bitterness. “I’m trying to read.”

Charlie’s eyebrows shot up, but he responded in a tone that was not unkind, “Just stopped by to say that he’s getting cleaned up now…That’s all.”

Harry wasn’t sure how to respond to that, almost feeling like a prick for snapping at Charlie in the first place. “Thanks. Anything else?”

“I - uh - I’m going to be gone for the next few days. They need me back in Romania, one of the new dragons has been giving them trouble. Figured I’d give ‘em a hand.”

Harry barely bit back his initial response, _Yeah, you like giving people a hand, don’t you?_

“For how long?”

“Just ‘till Tuesday.”

A pause echoed in the room, the silence deafening. “Right then. Thanks. Erm, have a nice trip,” Harry said.

Charlie nodded, and turned to exit the room, slapping his hand against Harry’s door frame. He paused. “You know, Harry...”

“What is it?”

“Try to enjoy yourself while I’m gone, yeah? There’s been a lot of...” Charlie shook his head, giving up mid-sentence, “Just let loose.” 

Charlie walked away before Harry had the chance to say anything in reply. He simply sat in silence for several minutes after that, trying to decipher the meaning behind Charlie’s words.

****

Another knock on Harry’s door came not long after Charlie departed for Romania. Something warmed within Harry as Draco stepped inside, his hair still wet from his shower, his body glowing with a kind of freshness.

“Hi.”

“Hi,” Draco replied, stepping toward Harry and crossing his arms over his chest, glancing out the window onto the street below Grimmauld. “So, Charlie’s gone.”

“Yeah. He is.” Harry shut his book and placed it on the window sill, looking up at Draco as he added, “Until Tuesday.”

Draco hummed in response. 

His eyes were running over Harry’s body, skimming from his bare feet to his Quidditch jumper, Draco’s gaze like a phantom touch on Harry’s skin. Draco then looked up from beneath his eyelashes, molten silver connecting with Harry’s eyes as he spoke, “Got any plans?” 

Harry’s breath caught in his throat; his brain seemed to have stopped working, no coherent response coming to the forefront of his mind. He replied with the first thing he could think of, “Thought we could clean the house.”

“Clean the house? _That’s_ your plan now that Charlie’s gone?”

Harry shrugged, his face coloring with pink, his cheeks burning, “Yeah. He’s a slob, you know? Never get the chance to clean up around here.”

A smile came over Draco’s features for a fleeting moment, his face lighting up brilliantly before he turned back to Harry, looking determined. “Alright. So, what are we cleaning first?”

****

“Sod off!”

Harry let out a laugh, ducking out of the way as Draco threw a filthy glove in his direction, “You said you wanted to clean the bathtub! Not my fault it’s disgusting.”

“I can’t believe I bathe in there! It’s fucking vile.”

Harry grinned in Draco’s direction as he backed slowly out of the bathroom, “Well…at least it’s clean now, right?”

Draco chucked the other glove at Harry’s head, barely missing as Harry dodged out of the way, the grime-covered glove landing with a squelch on the hardwood floor. “You’re such a fucking prat,” Draco grumbled from inside the bathroom while Harry merely chuckled, unable to hold it back.

****

A muffled voice called from the kitchen, the tone clearly less-than-pleased though Harry couldn’t hear the exact words. He exited the library with a spray bottle in hand, “What was that? I didn’t quite catch you.”

Harry walked through the entryway to the kitchen and stopped, not unlike he had earlier that morning, although this time the sight had him growing hard in his trousers.

Draco was on the floor, elbows pressing into the hardwood, back arched and denims stretching obscenely tight across his arse as he scrubbed at the floorboards. 

“What part of ‘I refuse to clean the floors’ did you _not_ understand?” 

Harry said nothing, his eyes transfixed on Draco’s toned arse and the strip of skin where his shirt had ridden up, a small pair of dimples visible on his lower back. He looked delectable. Harry was itching to undo his belt and fuck Draco right there on the kitchen floor. 

“Are you even listening, you arsehole?”

Draco’s words only triggered filthier images in Harry’s mind. He imagined stripping Draco out of his dust-covered clothes, kissing every inch of his pale skin until he was writhing on the floor desperate for Harry’s hand on his hard cock. Harry would flip him over then, face down and arse up, parting his cheeks in his hands and admiring the pucker of his arsehole. He would dive in and sloppily lick over Draco’s hole, the flat of his tongue pressing over it, leaving trails of saliva running over the furled skin. Harry would alternate long languid licks with quick swipes of his tongue, kissing and breathing hotly over Draco’s arse, leaving him begging for anything… everything. 

“Oi!” Draco’s voice spoke up from in front of him, breaking Harry out of his fantasy. 

Harry stared at Draco’s arse without shame for another moment, before finally glancing at Draco’s face where he was craning his neck to look at Harry from over his shoulder. 

“Nice arse. Clean the floors and I just might fuck it.” 

Harry exited the room without another word, but he swore that he heard the frantic scrub of a sponge against the wooden floorboards as he walked away.

****


	5. Chapter 5

****

Evening was looming, the light of day already faded away to nothingness out the window, a chill swirling throughout Grimmauld Place.

Harry and Draco had each showered, washing away traces from their day of cleaning, the warm water soothing their aching muscles as dirt and dust swirled delicately down the drain. After toweling his hair dry, Harry pulled on a pair of sweatpants and a Chudley Cannons tee, placing his glasses back on his face before heading downstairs.

Draco was sitting in an armchair with a book, eyes gliding gracefully from side to side as he read. Harry always wondered how Draco managed to make the simplest of tasks look so beautiful. 

He noticed that Draco had a mug of tea sitting on the coffee table beside him, the cup almost empty, tea leaves dotting the bottom of the mug in a pattern. Harry had the sudden and ridiculous urge to find one of his old Divination textbooks and read Draco’s tea leaves, to tell his future… to discover whether their futures were intertwined. 

Draco had not looked up from his book as Harry approached, his eyes seemingly glued to the page, locks of his long blonde hair falling into his face. Something in Harry’s belly fluttered strangely. 

“Would you like more tea?”

“Hmm?” Draco hummed, eyes still on the text in front of him. 

“I’m going to go make myself some tea, would you like some as well?”

Draco finally glanced up, gaze moving back and forth between his mug and Harry, brow furrowed as though concerned that Harry was planning to steal the mug and run away without providing him with more tea. “Oh. Yes, that would be nice. Thank you.”

“Right,” Harry nodded, picking up Draco’s mug and padding into the kitchen. 

He reheated the kettle with a spell, far too lazy to wait for it to heat up on the stove-top. Harry filled up a mug each for himself and Draco, taking a deep inhale and allowing the spicy warmth to fill his lungs. 

When he returned to the living room, Harry set both mugs down on the coffee table and they drank their tea in silence. 

“So, did you mean what you said earlier?” Draco asked.

Harry nearly jolted out of his seat on the couch when Draco spoke. He was glancing at Harry over his mug of tea, the silver of his eyes shining in the dim light of Grimmauld Place. 

“About what?”

“About fucking me,” Draco replied as he took another sip of tea, his voice casual, his posture exuding an ‘I don’t give a flying fuck about this matter’ sort of air.

Although Harry had fucked Draco countless times before, there was something different this time. It felt new. They could both sense it.

“Suppose I did,” Harry cleared his throat, running a hand over the back of his neck, “Would you actually want me to fuck you?”

Draco turned toward him with raised eyebrows, setting down his tea. “I never say no to a fuck, Harry. You should know that. Afterall, you’re the reason I’m not getting fucked by a different stranger every night.”

Harry swallowed uncomfortably, thinking back to seven months prior. 

Charlie had brought home a man late one summer evening and fucked him all night. This was not out of the ordinary, Charlie frequently brought home other men, generally Muggles wearing mesh shirts and trousers so tight that it left little to the imagination. However, Charlie had apparently forgotten to put up his usual Silencing Charms, because that night Harry heard every moan, curse, and scream. He got very little sleep, too distracted by the noises. At the time, he had no clue that the man being drilled into the mattress in the next room was Draco Malfoy. 

The following morning Charlie had cornered Harry in the hallway, informing Harry about Draco’s situation. Apparently, Draco had been unable to find work after the War and decided to put his good looks to use, selling his body and letting strangers fuck him for money. He didn’t have a permanent place to live, mainly staying the night with whoever fucked him. Despite any ill feelings Harry had felt towards Draco at Hogwarts, Harry was not about to let Draco go back out on the street. 

Harry eventually convinced Draco to move in after several shouting matches and well-timed Jelly-Legs Jinx. 

Harry would never forget what Draco looked like back then, his skin barely clinging to his muscles and bones, his body wasting away. He looked as though he hadn’t had a proper meal in weeks, months even.

It took a while before Draco settled in at Grimmauld, eating regularly and even cracking the occasional smile. 

The downside of having Draco in his house was that fact that Draco quickly became Charlie’s new sex toy. They fucked constantly, all over the house, the backyard, and even Harry’s bed on one occasion.

At that thought, Harry shook himself back to reality, letting out a sigh. “I know you like getting fucked. I just want to know if you want _me_ specifically? Or if it’s just the fuck.”

Draco’s face paled, which was quite a feat considering his nearly translucent skin tone. Harry immediately regretted asking the question at all. He stood up abruptly wiping his sweaty palms on his sleeping trousers and avoiding Draco’s gaze. “Er, nevermind. Forget I asked.” 

“Harry!”

“Yes?” Harry asked tentatively, some part of him afraid that Draco was about to hex him.

“I do want you to fuck me. And not just because I like fucking.”

Harry felt himself falling back down onto the couch, air rushing out of his lungs as though he had been holding it for hours, his head spinning for a moment. “Oh. Okay. Good.”

A silence stretched between the pair of them, though it felt contemplative rather than uncomfortable. A small seed of warmth blossomed in Harry’s chest, the unexpected heat sending gooseflesh trailing up his arms and over his neck.

“I’ll get us more tea,” Draco said after a moment, reaching for both mugs, an unusually soft expression on his face as he got up and walked into the kitchen. 

Harry turned himself on the couch, watching as Draco filled each of their mugs with freshly steaming tea, letting a smile take over his face when Draco reached into a cabinet and pulled out an unopened package of Digestives. He fussed with the packaging, tugging this way and that, hissing out a curse before he finally waved his wand to open it up. After piling a number of biscuits onto a plate, Draco cast a beautiful _Wingardium Leviosa_ \- one which would have made Hermione proud - sending the plate and both mugs through the air until they landed neatly on the table in front of Harry.

Once Draco sat back down, this time seated next to Harry on the couch, a conversation began to develop, their bodies gradually shifting closer as they spoke as if magnets were drawing them together.

They bantered, laughed, and reminisced. They spoke about Ministry politics, Draco’s time as a sex worker, and Harry’s childhood with the Dursleys'. They went through two kettles full of tea, half a bottle of Elderflower Wine, and six shots of Firewhiskey. 

It was many hours later that Harry realized just how late it was. Neither of them were in any state to make it back upstairs for bed, limbs too heavy from the day of housework, minds fuzzy from the alcohol, eyes already sliding shut. They decided to sleep on the couch. 

Harry let out a yawn, his head spinning as he watched Draco cast a charm to widen the couch, increasing the size just enough so that they could both comfortably fit on the plush surface. 

Draco spooned up behind Harry once the couch was correctly sized, an arm wrapped around Harry’s middle and one of his skinny ankles pressing into Harry’s calf, toes cold where they brushed his skin. 

They fell asleep like that, tightly intertwined, letting out soft hums and shifting even closer together until their breathing finally evened out, Draco’s slow breaths tickling the hairs on the back of Harry’s neck.

****

The smell of fire woke Harry, and he sat up with a start, blinking blearily around and groping in front of him for his glasses. After sliding them onto his face, he turned toward the kitchen, eyes widening in concern when he saw a cloud of smoke rising from the stovetop.

Harry’s legs shook as he got up and walked quickly into the kitchen, limbs still asleep even though his mind was suddenly wide awake, and he slid a bit across the hardwood floors in his stocking-clad feet. 

When Harry regained his balance, he took in the scene around him - a smoking pan filled with bacon that had been burnt to a crisp, a bowl filled with at least six broken eggshells, and what appeared to be a plate of grilled cottage cheese. “What exactly were you attempting to accomplish here?” Harry asked after a moment.

“I was making breakfast, you twat,” Draco replied, his voice confident and cocky as ever, even though a light flush was blooming on his cheeks. 

“Yes, well… we can work on your cooking skills later. For now, I’m fucking starving, so I’m going to fix us something at least _mildly_ edible.”

Draco scoffed, but moved aside all the same, allowing Harry to get to work.

“You slept like the dead, you know,” Draco said as he watched Harry cook, leaning his slim hips back against the counter and waving his wand, a set of spice containers beginning to circle Harry’s head like a halo, “And you drooled,” Draco added with a smirk. 

“Brilliant,” Harry said with exasperation, trying to duck out from beneath the path of Draco’s spicy, spinning halo and rolling his eyes when they followed his movements. 

“You’re as good as Hermione at that stuff,” Harry commented, nodding up at Draco’s handiwork, “I can’t do charms or transfiguration for shit, just the basic stuff we learned in Hogwarts.”

Draco shrugged, “I just… I like magic.”

“Bloody lucky you’re a wizard then,” Harry responded with a smirk, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

He barely had time to shield the food before Draco had flicked his wand and upturned a bottle of cinnamon onto Harry’s head, a small puff of smoke expanding above him.

Shortly after, Harry got his revenge with a jar of powdered sugar and a comment that earned him a hard swat on the nose, “You’re actually paler than the sugar, I didn’t think that was possible!”

****

Draco coughed when they entered the attic, the force of his breath stirring the thick layer of dust covering nearly every box and piece of old furniture.

“Fuck, did someone die up here?”

Harry tilted his head and looked around the attic, finally shrugging, “Probably.”

They spent the next several hours sorting through the sea of boxes up in the attic, finding everything from Buckbeak’s old nest of fabric scraps and newspapers, to an antique set of Wizard’s Chess, to a box of hideous dress robes - “Well, that’d be unfortunate to wear,” Draco commented, holding one of the truly horrifying garments up to Harry’s chest, “These are even worse than Weasley’s dress robes from fourth year,” - and finally a dog collar that Harry claimed was for Padfoot when he left Grimmauld, while Draco insisted it was for sex. 

“The world was practically ending, he didn’t have time for kinky sex!” Harry argued.

“First of all, it concerns me that you qualify a collar as ‘kinky,’ because that’s about as vanilla as it gets. Second… where there’s a will, there’s a way.”

****

Hours later they found themselves seated on the floor of Harry’s bedroom, playing Wizard’s Chess while the fireplace crackled warmly next to them.

“Checkmate,” Draco said with a triumphant grin as his Bishop swung violently at Harry’s Queen.

“You tosser! I swear you cheated,” Harry exclaimed as Draco let out a lazy yawn, reaching his slim arms far above his head as he did so, his thin jumper riding up his stomach, exposing the pale skin of his abdomen and the jut of his hip bones. 

“I beg to differ, I think you’re just a shit chess player,” Draco replied smugly, his own eyes following the track of Harry’s gaze. “How about for this next round, we make it a little more… _interesting._ ”

“How so?”

Draco paused, rolling his Knight around his hand, smoothing a finger over the marble surface before glancing up at Harry, “For each lost chess piece, the victim has to answer a question of a sexual nature.”

“Sounds fair enough.” Then, Harry flicked his wand, all of the chess pieces repairing themselves and falling back into formation on the chess board.

****

It was Harry who lost the first piece.

Draco didn’t waste any time, a question pouring out before Harry’s Pawn had even broken, “Who was your first time with?”

“Ginny.”

Draco huffed, “Not with a bird. What about your first time with a bloke?”

“It was some Muggle, I don’t even remember his name." Harry shrugged, trying to remember back to that drunken night, "Met him in a gay bar shortly after the War.”

“Well isn’t that fucking cliche?” Draco said, rolling his eyes, though Harry swore he saw a hint of jealousy in his gaze. 

When Draco lost a piece, Harry inquired about Draco’s three biggest turn ons in a partner.

Draco considered the question for a moment, “I like facial hair. Not a full beard or anything, just stubble. I like feeling the burn of it on my inner thighs when they’re blowing me.”

As if it was a reflex, Harry ran a hand over the stubble covering his cheeks. Draco’s gaze followed his movements.

“I also like having a partner who is strong enough to lift me and maneuver me however they want,” Draco licked his lips and smirked a little, the barely-there glint in his eyes stirring heat in Harry’s stomach, “And if you haven’t already noticed, I’m a bit of a size queen.”

Several turns later, Draco asked Harry to list his kinks.

Harry stared into the fire for a moment, watching the burning embers with rapt attention as his mind whirred, unsure where to begin or how much to say. “I tend to identify as a dominant. I prefer to be in control, even if I’m the one bottoming. I also love rimming a nice toned arse...” Harry sighed, thinking of how amazing it felt to have a man opening beneath his tongue, writhing and moaning unabashedly as Harry licked, sucked, and prodded. 

Draco’s voice interrupted Harry’s train of thought, “Anything else?”

“I’ve always been a bit of a voyeur,” Harry admitted.

“Is that so?” He could hear the mixture of delight and curiosity in Draco’s voice. Harry nodded in response. 

Silence stretched for a moment, the air in the small room charged with electricity, “Ever wish you could watch me wank? Watch me come on my own?” 

Harry’s mouth went dry at Draco’s words and his breath quickened, voice coming out unsteadily, “Yes.”

Draco hummed, “Then let’s make a deal. If you beat me at this next round of chess, I’ll give you a little show.”

Harry swallowed around the lump forming in his throat, nodding dumbly in agreement with Draco’s deal. 

Cheating was not something Harry had ever considered in the past, but while he was sitting there across from Draco, letting his eyes and mind wander, thinking about how hot it would be to see Draco wank for him… Merlin _fuck_ he was willing to do just about anything to win this round.

“Distracted, Potter?” Draco asked with a smirk, nodding to the chess board, where the pieces were waiting for him to make his next move. 

“This is entirely your fault,” Harry grumbled as he stared at the board, the position of his Knight catching his eye. “Knight to E5,” he ordered watching with delight as his Knight swung out and chopped the arm off Draco’s Queen. “Checkmate,” Harry stated proudly. 

Draco let out a light laugh, his gaze dark and appreciative, “Well done, Potter. Didn’t think you had it in you.”

“I was motivated,” Harry replied, eyes dropping briefly to Draco’s lap.

Waving his wand confidently, Draco directed the chess set to clear off the small table in front of them, floating away and settling on a shelf off to the side.

Draco shuffled around for a moment, getting up onto his knees and rearranging the pillow he had been sitting on. As he stilled, Harry took in a breath, not wanting to disturb the moment.

The next several minutes lasted hours in Harry’s mind. 

Each of Draco’s movements was sharp and snakelike, slow and purposeful. From the way he unbuttoned his trousers to the gentle press of his palm against the swollen length of his cock, Harry was mesmerized by every move Draco made.

Harry felt his mouth water as he watched Draco hook his thumbs into the waistband of his briefs, pulling them down inch by inch, his gaze never leaving Harry’s. 

It was strange seeing Draco undress this time. Harry couldn’t begin to remember how many times they’d fucked, certainly had lost count of the number of times he had seen Draco naked. But there was something different about it this time. Something felt _new_ about it. He almost felt as though he was seeing Draco naked for the very first time.

He was breathless at the sight of Draco’s cock bouncing in the air as his waistband was pulled down far enough. Harry swallowed around the saliva pooling in his mouth, clenching his fists as he resisted the urge to lean down and wrap his lips around the flushed head. 

Draco wrapped his long fingers around his length and began to stroke, his movements long and languid at first, though they gradually sped up as precome formed at the tip, making the head glisten beautifully in the light of the flickering fire. 

Harry’s heartbeat sped up in a mirror of Draco’s ever-increasing pace, his heart fluttering and his own cock throbbing in his trousers as he watched Draco bring himself closer and closer to a release.

Soft whimpers and breathy moans poured from Draco as his hand stroked his cock, the noises washing over Harry’s skin like a fire’s heat on a cold winter day, the sensation sending chills erupting over his skin, making him shiver where he sat.

Harry couldn’t remember the last time sex had felt so intimate.

He felt as though he was intruding on something private, something sacred. He felt privileged that Draco was allowing him to watch, trusting him with such a personal act. 

“Draco, I - you look… _Fuck_ , you look beautiful,” Harry said on a rush of breath, his head spinning.

His words seemed to have had an effect on Draco, his strokes stuttering as he bit down on his lower lip, the flesh becoming plump and pink beneath the pressure.

“Can I come? Please, Harry... please,” Draco asked, his eyes closed while his chest rose and fell with a shaking breath. 

Harry was taken aback by Draco’s question, even as it stroked the ego of his dominant side, “Draco, this is about you. I just want you to make yourself feel good. You - you don’t need my permission to feel good.”

And that was all it took. 

Draco’s eyes opened, locking onto Harry’s as he let out a cry, his cock shooting ropes of come over his hand and torso.

A mixture of emotions burst through Harry as he watched Draco come. It was almost as though he was the one experiencing the orgasm. A euphoria filled him, his body trembling from the rush of aching sadness, relief, confusion, mind-numbing pleasure, and _love._

It was like nothing Harry had ever felt before.

****


	6. Chapter 6

****

The next morning, Harry was woken up by the smell of something warm and spiced, his senses awakening before his body had been lured fully out of sleep.

When Harry got up and headed downstairs, yawning and stretching as he went, he found a large pot of tea - brewed just the way he liked it - on the counter, with a piece of torn parchment sitting beside it.

Harry recognized Draco’s handwriting immediately and he couldn’t help but smile as he read it.

__

_I made you tea, Scarhead. (And this time I didn’t burn the house down). Out to do a bit of shopping, I will see you tonight._

Harry reread the letter more times that he would like to admit, and each time it still managed to make his heart skip a beat.

After getting ready, Harry headed off to the Ministry for a day of mundane office work, pointlessly long meetings, and a Floo malfunction that sent him flying into some poor old Ms Maeve Neptuna’s house, completely interrupting her evening tea and scaring her half to death.

It had been an eventfully uneventful day, and Harry was looking forward to a much more _stimulating_ evening with Draco.

****

When Harry finally arrived home from work, he paused as he stepped inside, sensing that something was off.

He heard voices trailing from the library and wondered whether Draco had invited someone over for dinner. 

Harry dropped his briefcase down by the front door and toed off his shoes, undoing his tie as he walked toward the library, moving his neck from side to side to stretch out the stiffness after a long day of work. 

As Harry rounded the corner, he felt his stomach lurch uncomfortably, his silken tie slipping through his fingers and falling to the floor as he took in the sight in front of him.

Harry felt as though his heart had been ripped out of his chest.

Draco was being held in midair, one of Charlie’s large arms wrapped strongly around his waist, Draco’s trousers and pants hanging around his ankles, his belt clinking as Charlie fucked up into him. Charlie held up Draco as though he weighed no more than a Pygmy Puff, bouncing Draco on his cock and grunting with every thrust. 

Draco looked just as shocked as Harry by the entire experience, though his face appeared to be more of an ecstatic surprise as moans of pleasure spilled from his lips, beads of sweat dripping down his forehead. 

Harry felt frozen to the spot even as magic sparked at his fingertips. He had an unmistakable fury building inside him, wanting nothing more than to send a curse in Charlie’s direction, to take Draco back from his clutches, to ask what the bloody _fuck_ Charlie was doing back early. 

Just as Harry thought about turning away, his insides churning and his magic fuming, Charlie looked up at him from under a mess of sweat-slick ginger hair, his eyes dark and determined. 

There was something in Charlie’s gaze that Harry couldn’t place, something he had never seen before. It was almost… angry. In fact, he looked furious. Harry couldn’t understand it, but now that he was focused in on Charlie’s face, he couldn’t tear his eyes away. He focused in on the furrow of Charlie’s brow, the clench of his wide jaw, the glint of anger and annoyance in his eyes, all of which were seemingly directed at Harry. 

A tornado of emotions swirled inside of Harry as he stood there, watching Draco be fucked like a lifeless ragdoll, and before he knew it, he was walking away. 

Harry walked up the stairs slowly, the sound of his feet on each wooden step echoing in his ears like a gong, every sensation overwhelming him as he allowed his feet to lead him to his bedroom. 

He sat down on his bed, his heart racing uncomfortably fast even as the rest of the world seemed to be moving in slow motion.

A while later, Harry heard fumbling footsteps coming up the stairs, two sets of feet shuffling past his room, hushed voices carrying to Harry’s ears. After a crash and a couple of muffled curses, Harry heard the unmistakable sound of hips slamming against an arse at an alarming rate, the wall practically shaking as Charlie fucked Draco once more. 

Harry closed his eyes, letting out a shaky breath as a tear trailed down his cheek.

It was going to be a long night.

****


	7. Chapter 7

****

That night, Harry didn’t sleep at all. He felt paralyzed, frozen, unable to do more than sit on his bed with his hands clenched and his jaw set tight, every muscle in his body tensed and painful.

As the early morning light poured in through Harry’s window, he heard a door creak open and heavy footsteps lumber down the stairs.

Before Harry knew what he was doing, he was storming out of his room and tearing down the staircase, yelling at Charlie the minute he made it down into the kitchen.

“I fucking hate you!”

Charlie turned around, leaning back against the counter with raised eyebrows as he took a sip from his mug of coffee, clad only in a pair of thin black briefs. “And why’s that, Harry?”

Harry stepped forward, his body vibrating with anger, with hatred, with emotions he couldn’t even name. “You treat Draco like an object! You don’t respect him or care for him. You act like you own him and it’s fucking disgusting!”

Something mischievous and almost proud shone in Charlie’s eyes as he replied, the tone of his voice not sounding even the smallest bit offended. “It sounds like you’re saying Draco is yours, Harry.” 

Harry shook his head, clenching his fists, “He’s not mine, but he was _never_ yours.”

“Why not?”

Harry let out a frustrated growl, gesturing wildly as he spoke, “Because I’m falling in love with him, you arsehole! So would you please just - just stop fucking him?!”

Charlie let out a laugh - the sound startling Harry - and a grin broke out across his face, “Fucking finally!”

“And I - Wait, what?”

Running a hand over his ginger beard, Charlie let out an exasperated chuckle, “I’ve been trying to get you to admit that for _weeks_. I left Grimmauld thinking it would give you and Draco time to get on with it already, but then I get home and see that nothing’s changed. Merlin, I thought I was going to have to fuck him in your bed again just to get through to you.”

“You were trying to do this? You _knew?!_ ”

Charlie took a swig of coffee, posture as casual as if they were discussing which type of soil to use in the yard. “‘Course I knew. A blind Hippogriff would know. Your scar might as well say ‘I love Draco Malfoy.’”

“Oh shove it… God, now I just feel pathetic,” Harry said, his heartbeat slowing down for the first time since they had started this conversation. He leaned back against the kitchen wall, his thoughts spinning dumbly, still trying to catch up.

“You’re not pathetic lad, you’re in love. The both of you. Idiots in love! It would be precious if it hadn’t been like pulling teeth to get you to admit it. Now stop drowning in self-pity and go tell him before I decide to go back for another round.”

Harry didn't require any more convincing. He took a steadying breath and gave Charlie a final look, "Look, Charlie - I'm really sorry I - "

"Piss off. Just go tell him!" Charlie said with a laugh, waving Harry away.

Turning around, Harry tore back up the staircase with incredible speed, bursting into Draco's room unceremoniously, his judgement not quite refined considering the way his world had just been turned inside-out. 

Draco was asleep in bed, his hair fanned out beautifully on his pillow, his lips parted softly, his breathing slow and even.

Harry couldn't help himself, he walked over and knelt down, stroking the hair out of Draco's eyes as he had done days before. "Draco?" he called quietly.

When Draco didn't stir, Harry said his name again, louder this time.

Draco suddenly shot up, looking groggy and confused, "Mm, what is it?" he asked, smacking his lips and letting out a yawn, his eyelids barely opening.

“I - I think I love you.”

Draco blinked up at him, the fog in his eyes clearing until his gaze was warm and steady. Then the words were falling from his lips without pause, “I love you too.”

Every broken piece of Harry seemed to fall into place all at once and he felt grounded for the first time. Harry let out a huff of relieved laughter, his heart jumping in his chest, “Brilliant.”

“Now come to bed, I’m exhausted.”

And so, Harry crawled into bed without hesitation, pressing a kiss to Draco’s lips before allowing Draco to curl himself into Harry’s chest, his body covering Harry’s, his presence far-reaching for such a slim person. Draco fell asleep within minutes, but Harry stayed awake, giving himself time to savor every touch and every sound, his mind catching up with his heart as he drowned himself in everything that was Draco Malfoy.

When Charlie dropped by a few hours later to bring Harry a mug of tea, Harry curled his arm possessively around Draco’s shoulders, thumb rubbing into his pale skin. Charlie eyed Harry’s movements with amusement. 

“He’s all yours, mate,” Charlie said, throwing up his hands in surrender, a smirk pulling at his lips.

Harry shook his head, “No, I’m _his._ ”

****

_Fin_

**Author's Note:**

> This fic has been a work-in-progress for A LONG TIME. It's been a labor of love and a pain in the arse, but I think it's finally ready to be published. I'm proud of how it turned out.
> 
> I truly hope you all enjoy this, because I put a lot of my heart and soul into it.
> 
> Comments and kudos mean the world to me <3


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